


The Blue Danube

by FireEye



Category: Saints Row
Genre: F/M, Fake Dating, Gen, trope bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 15:29:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3073031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireEye/pseuds/FireEye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pre-SR4.  Crashing political parties.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Blue Danube

The dress was of her own design. Sweeping and gossamer outer layers, but svelte at its core, with a tactically positioned split down one side allowing for mobility and an inbuilt holster allowing for prudent caution. Interlinking shades of violet and purple and black accenting one another in a pattern that was kaleidoscopic and most pleasing to the eye. The swirling lattice of the outer layer ended far enough above her ankle that, should it have torn as perhaps was in its design, it wouldn’t have tripped her up.

From both an aesthetic and a utilitarian standpoint, Oleg found himself approving, although he held little need for such a display. His eveningwear was likewise custom, born of Faith’s skill with the needle. He had become unaccustomed to the comfort of genuinely tailored clothing, and there was the latent temptation in wanting to request her in handling all of his such affairs from now on.

But there were more pressing matters to attend to than the comforts of well-tailored clothing. They sat out on the veranda, apart from the function enough to have their own space, and at a vantage point to observe everything in one direction or the other.

And since there were two of them, they covered both directions at once. A convenience, that.

“Hey, man – thanks for letting me drag you along,” Faith told him. “I wasn’t sure if I was going to have to fight my way in.”

“No thanks necessary,” Oleg assured her. Security had been watching them the entire evening, not entirely discreetly. But they were wise enough to keep their distance. “I have often found myself fascinated by the United States political system.”

Faith laughed – not a mere titter, but a healthy cackle, drawing the attention of nearby lovers they shared the veranda with. “You’re not getting such a great look at it from all the way out here.”

“And yet,” Oleg pointed out, “Such decadence speaks for itself.”

Following his casing of the ballroom, visible through the luxurious, polished doors left wide open. Couples danced across the floor, to the strains of _The Blue Danube_. It wasn’t the music and it wasn’t the dance, but an old, familiar pain wormed its way through her chest. Ignoring for the moment his vigil, Oleg stared down at her.

“Old pain is the worst.”

“It’s not... okay fine, it is.”

She looked up at him, sighing.

“Care to take this to the floor?” she asked. “You’ll get a better view from in there, I’m sure.”

Oleg glanced down at her in surprise, smiling wryly. “Should I presume that in addition to taking over cities and subjugating them under your heel, you know the waltz, as well?”

“Actually?” Faith grinned back. “Yeah.”

Oleg shrugged. Standing from the balcony, he bowed deeply, almost respectfully, and offered her an arm; Faith’s grin widened as she slid her fingers past his elbow. Together, they moved with an air of confidence and pride, and heads turned as they moved through the doors and onto the dance floor.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even have notes for this one. It just is. *waves tiny Oleg flag*


End file.
